Sun Never Sets
by Cloud-Dee
Summary: "The sun never sets on the British Empire" So then why was he here, soaked by the rain and screaming at the heavens for a friend who was never comming back. Because good things begin in the sun. And bad things end in the rain...


Sun Never Sets

There was a storm raging in the heavens. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled while ice cold raindrops pelted from the sky. But America didn't notice any of this. He didn't see the blinding flashes of light or feel the bitter cold as it soaked through his jacket and into his bones. He didn't want to feel. Feeling only brought on more pain. So he stood in the freezing rain and let himself become numb.

There was only so much a person can take before they crack. And America was about to crack. He could feel it in himself, the hatred and the fury and the resentment rising in his chest and for the first time he refused to restrain it. He had hoped that the rain would wash away his pain but instead it was just dissolving the emotional barriers he had so desperately put in place, in a vain attempt to hold back feeling.

Well, he wasn't going to be doing that for much longer.

Secluded and alone, for the first time in days, with the rain pelting down and the thunder drowning his voice, America screamed. He let out a wild, almost inhuman sound, the sound of desperate pain and incurable loss, tearing its way out of his throat and up into the heavens. Distantly, he noticed the cold, seeping feeling as mud soaked through his trousers and he vaguely registered that he had fallen to his knees.

Rain trickled down his upturned face, mixing with the tears. It hurt, like a physical pain in his chest, the burning he could feel in his heart. But it felt good, letting it out, screaming to the sky and anyone up there who might be listening, screaming at them for what they had done. Screaming at_ him_.

"Why?" The word started as a whisper but steadily grew until it was ripped from his throat in another agonised howl. "Why?"

"You promised me you would never leave. You promised." _You promised, you promised, you promised._ But since when did that mean anything anymore.

"You promised you would always be there for me. Because we were allies. Because we were friends. Because I thought you cared about me. But you don 't. You can't. Because if you did, you would still _be_ here."

He knew it was unfair. He knew the words he was hurling at the unforgiving sky were pointless and untrue but it felt so good to say them. To lose his mind in the rain and scream what he felt. Scream about how unfair it was, scream about how it wasn't supposed to be like this, wasn't supposed to end like this, wasn't his fault.

"I tried. Oh god I tried. I tried everything I could but it still wasn't enough was it? It still wasn't enough." The last words were choked off by a sob that was drowned in the noise of the thunder and rain. He had waited until a rainy day to come. It seemed wrong to come here in the sunlight. Good things began in the sunlight. Bad things ended in the rain.

"The sun never sets you told me once. That was your promise. The sun never sets on the British Empire. That's how I knew I could trust you, because you would never leave. Well look. Can you see the sun now? The sun's gone and you went with it. And I never told you…I never got to say…"

It was only then he realised he was shivering. Shivering and shaking and silently begging for a miracle that he knew would never come. Slowly, America stood up and pushed his sopping hair out of his eyes as yet another lightning flash lit up the ground before him.

In that single moment of brilliant white light he could see. He could see everything. The scorched ground, the twisted wire, the last desperate struggle of a battle that was already lost. And the rows of hastily dug graves marring the ground, unmarked but for the rusting metal dog tags that lay above them, the last tribute to dead men.

And he could see the tattered remains of a ripped and bloody British flag. Crushed in the mud, America could see all that remained of an empire and all that was left of his friend.

"I'm so sorry. That it wasn't enough."

America dug his hands in his pockets, turned from the sight and began to walk away, knowing that his words were still unheard and would never be answered. Rain tricked down his face and for a second, he could almost pretend he wasn't crying. But rain doesn't sting your eyes. It doesn't burn your throat and rip at your heart. Because rain washes away and tears only bring more pain.

Unexpectedly, he felt the touch of cold metal against his hand and drew it from inside his pocket, hand clenched around the small object resting there. And then suddenly he was furious, because he remembered what the objects were and why they were there. He was furious at the world, furious at himself, furious at _him_. And he drew his hand back and with all his might, threw the things away from him, far out into the field. Then he turned and strode away, not looking back.

"You promised me you would never leave."

Out in the mud soaked field, two broken metal dog tags, bearing the name "Arthur Kirkland" rested on the graves of dead men.

"You lied."

**AN- So, this is my first time writing for Hetalia. I love the show and the work that people have created for it is incredible! So I though I would try out doing some of my own writing as it gives writers so much to work with. So I would love a review to tell me what you think about this and if I should continue writing for this fandom. Reviews =love!**


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